


Five things that never happened to Ranma Saotome

by LeDiz



Category: Ranma 1/2
Genre: Could've beens, F/M, Ranma's life kind of sucks, Unfinished, five things fic, passive aggressive teenagers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 16:42:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7941661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeDiz/pseuds/LeDiz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ranma could've lived a lot of different lives, if only...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Genma never left Ranma to the Seven Lucky Gods Daikoku School of Martial Arts Take-Out

They had been walking for almost three hours before Soun finally accepted he was lost.

            Akane had to admit she found it strange that it had taken so long – usually her dad was more the take-a-wrong-turn-and-panic kind of man, but ever since he had remet his old friend Genma Saotome, he had been getting increasingly stupid. Now it was almost impossible to convince him he was wrong, and times of panic were turning into times of stubbornness.

            Kasumi was proud, saying her father was rediscovering his youthful manliness. Nabiki said he was rediscovering how to be an idiot.

            This time, however, the youthful idiocy had taken them on a trip into the mountains, intending to find a town that was being attacked by a vicious demon. The idea was that as the famous Martial Artists Soun and Genma were, they could save the town and receive many gifts of gratitude. Akane had come along in the hope the demon would maim her so Kuno would stop insisting they were in love.

            Unfortunately, they had taken a wrong turn at the bus stop, and now had absolutely no idea where they were.

            “Look, why don’t we just stop and ask for directions?” suggested Akane, pointing toward a large building up ahead. “Worse comes to worst, we’ll be able to find our way back to the bus stop and start over, right?”

            “Mmm,” agreed Genma, pushing his glasses further up his nose. “It is best that we regroup over a hot meal. Surely they will offer such to weary travellers such as us.”

 

* * *

 

“Weary travellers, huh? Five fifty for a bowl for ramen.”

            Akane growled, her father and his friend face faulting to the ground as she slammed her foot against it in protest. “What? Five hundred and fifty _yen_? That’s insane!”

            “No, that’s a discount,” retorted the young man. Upon moving closer, they had realised the building was a roadside restaurant, with a handsome teenager vacuuming the entrance and clearly setting up for a day of business. He tilted his head at her, confused. “You expect it for free?”

            “We’re tired, cold and hungry!” she shouted, clenching her fists. “Weary travellers! Aren’t you supposed to care for us?”

            “No. I’m supposed to feed you. For a price,” he replied calmly. “Everyone who comes through here is tired, cold and hungry. That’s the point of the mountains.”

            She glared at him, thumping her foot against the ground again. The boy had to be around her age, and she could probably take him in a fight easy. Hidden in baggy denim clothing, he was thin and only average height. Nothing to worry about. The problem was this wasn’t Tokyo – beating someone up for food was a big problem outside Furinkan, and even worse once you left the city. They weren’t used to psychotic people.

            “Listen,” he said, sighing heavily. “I’d like to help you out, which is why I’m offering the discount. But this is my family’s livelihood here. If we gave free food to everyone that got lost and hungry, we’d go completely broke in about a week. It’s hard enough to feed Ryoga, let alone random travellers.”

            Akane scowled, folding her arms, but she had to admit he had a point. An irritating point, but a point none the less. “D’you have anything cheaper?”

            “Mm… yeah, but… I’d recommend the ramen. Papa does the cheaper cooking and he’s not that great,” he said, but then winked, smiling. “Or I could make you up some okinomiyaki. Three hundred, and that’s my final offer.”

            She blinked, swallowing at the feeling of heat rising in her cheeks. Was he flirting, or was she just so sick of Kuno that she was taking anything as an opportunity?

            “O- Okinomiyaki sounds good,” she said, blushing, and he grinned.

            “Great. Come on in.”

 

* * *

 

“Ranma?”

            “Yeah. I’m lucky to have it, actually,” the young restaurateur confessed, standing up. A young woman had emerged from the kitchen to take care of Genma and Soun so their host could go back to his chores, but after eating her okonomiyaki, Akane had decided to make friends with the stranger and left them to eat as much as they could pay for. Ranma, as he was telling her his name was, had been found in the backyard, tending vegetables. “My foster father was going to call me Kazuki to match Kaori, but luckily I already _had_ a name.”

            “Foster father? You’re adopted?”

            “Traded, actually,” he said, smiling that oddly enticing smile again. She was beginning to suspect it was some kind of Ki force meant to trick people into buying his food. “My original father was a traveller much like yourself. Only he had been wandering for days without food, carrying me on his back. He came across Papa and agreed to trade the boy off his back for a meal.”

            Akane gasped, clapping her hands to her mouth. “That’s terrible!”

            “Nah, I have it good here,” he said, the image of nonchalance. “My entire life was set for success the day my father traded me. Everything is planned out.”

            “Oh?” She frowned, watching him curiously as he stepped over his carrots to reach the herb garden and begin weeding. “How so?”

            “Well, the idea was Papa adopted me to raise and marry his daughter Kaori, so we could carry on the business and school,” he said simply. “I’m the heir to a very successful restaurant and a powerful Martial Art. I have a beautiful fiancée and skills to make it in the world no matter what happens in the future. It’s a good life.”

            Akane’s frown deepened, and she walked around to crouch down beside him. “But your whole life is mapped out; you don’t have any choices. Doesn’t that bother you?”

            He shrugged, glancing at her with a smile. “I was raised for it.”

            “But your life isn’t your own,” she argued. “How do you know you don’t want something different if you don’t have control?”

            He laughed, pushing himself up to rest his elbows on his knees, grinning at her. “I have as many choices as you. There’s nothing stopping me from walking out onto the street and never coming back.”

            “But your foster father –”

            “You’re a martial artist, right?”

            She blinked, and he smiled, putting down his weeding bag to push himself to his feet. “It’s pretty obvious. You’re not like most of the girls that come through here – every move you make is firm; you’re pretty strong, right?”

            She blushed, but nodded anyway. “So what?”

            “So I’m guessing, from the guys you were travelling with, that you’re attached to a dojo. I’m guessing you’re probably the daughter of one,” he said, and folded his arms behind his back, leaning forward to smirk at her. “And since you aren’t travelling with a young guy, I’m guessing you’re probably the closest thing the dojo’s got to an heir.”

            She blinked, staring at him blankly. She never would have guessed he was smart enough to figure all that out. Most people discarded the idea of her even being a martial artist on the basis she was a girl, and Ranma didn’t exactly scream intelligence from his looks.

            “I’m guessing you plan to take over the dojo one day. Otherwise you wouldn’t have gone travelling like this. And you’ve got a hard face – I bet you’ve been training since you were little,” he added, and she glared.

            “Oh, I’m so sorry I’m not cute like your pretty little fiancée in there!” she cried, but his smirk only slipped a little, softening into an understanding smile.

            “From the time you were little—maybe from the time you were born, for all I know—you knew you would grow up and inherit your family’s dojo. You probably always knew you had to marry a strong martial artist so people would take your dojo seriously,” he said, and she flinched, recognising her dreams coming from his lips like they were some kind of curse. He grinned, tapping her on the forehead with his index finger. “What’s so different between you and me, huh?”

            She blinked again, staring at him in shock, but he just chuckled and turned around, crouching back over his garden.

 

* * *

 

“It was nice meeting you, Ranma-kun. Kaori-san.”

            Ranma’s fiancee bowed politely, and he smiled, raising his hand in farewell. “Thank you for visiting our restaurant.”

            Genma frowned, eyeing him thoughtfully, but Soun grinned, laughing brightly. “We’ll be sure to come again on our way back!”

            “Ah, that’s right,” said Ranma, clicking his fingers. “The village you’re looking for is on the other side of the mountain. It’s about half a day’s walk, so you should get there by nightfall.”

            Her father and his friend followed Ranma’s pointing finger, but Akane continued gazing at the boy himself from under her eyebrows. She found her eyes drifting over to Kaori, who was standing just behind him, her head bowed and hands crossed over her apron. Her slight smile seemed content, and Ranma himself had the same kind of air she felt in Doctor Tofu: things may not be perfect, but he was happy with his lot in life.

            He smiled at her, tilting his head. “It was nice talking to you, Akane-san.”

            She stared for a long moment, then slowly nodded, forcing a smile. “I’m sorry I made those assumptions. It wasn’t my place to say anything.”

            His eyes narrowed into that enticing smile of his, and she swallowed hard, before Ranma suddenly squawked over Kaori’s elbow in his side.

            “They already said they’d come back!” she hissed quietly, and Akane laughed, skipping backward to join her father and his friend.

            “If you’re ever in Tokyo, look up the Tendo Dojo!” she called, as they started down the road. “You showed me your destiny, it’s only fair I show you mine!”

            He grinned, raising his arm to wave goodbye. “It’s a deal! Later, Akane-san!”

            She nodded, then turned around, gripping the straps of her backpack and starting down the road. Even if they didn’t come back to the restaurant, she just knew she’d end up meeting Ranma again. She would _prove_ he was wrong about her.


	2. Ranma never had his fight with Ryoga before leaving for Jyusenkyo

The ward of Nerima was one Ryoga had trudged through many times before. Not that this marked it as special. Every ward was one he had trudged through many times before. It just happened to be the one he was trudging through at the moment.

He was trying to get home from the final middle school exams. He’d been trying to get home for the last four months. He had no idea whether he’d passed or failed. He didn’t even know if he’d actually sat the right test.

But it was impossible to know. He never got to where he was going. He was always lost. Always stuck in the middle of no where. And no one ever found him.

The last time he’d gotten where he was going straight away had been six and a half months ago, he was sure. For three days after that awesome fight with Ranma Saotome, the travelling martial artist had taken it upon himself to drag Ryoga to and from school by the wrist. For three whole days, Ryoga had been a normal student, with a real friend. He knew Ranma was just hanging around for the food Ryoga would always give him as thanks, but having someone to talk to—who just accepted that he was always getting lost the same as he accepted Ryoga’s fangs and hair—was worth it. It felt like a real friendship.

But then Ranma had just stopped showing up at school. The teachers said he’d gone on exchange to China, but Ryoga knew better. Ranma had told him that he was travelling around the country on a ten-year training mission. But the ten years had been over for almost two years, now. Ranma didn’t know if they would ever stop. Ryoga could guess that they had finally moved on.

Sometimes he still thought about Ranma. There had been something weird about him. The way he stuttered over phrases that mentioned cats, or how he was always scarfing food, but always looked underfed. He had some weird jokes, too, about how mud tasted just like chocolate if you mixed in some fresh grass and water. Sometimes Ryoga thought he remembered seeing Ranma on the streets at weird times of night: always, always training.

It had been a year now, and Ryoga had met some pretty strange people. He had long since figured out that Ranma had been a full-on martial artist, and that his training was overly strict. But Ryoga still worried, sometimes.

His current musings could have continued along his memory lane for another hour or so (what else was there to do, when you spent your life walking?), but they were suddenly cut off by a train pummelling into his back.

Or at least, that was what it felt like. Very few things could knock him down, and a train was one of them. This was another, and it took him a few moments to realise it was actually a pretty little red-haired girl that was sopping wet and bruised from head to toe. She was groaning and having trouble getting off him, so Ryoga quickly grabbed her shoulders and helped her back onto her haunches, where she swayed in the breeze and smiled at him as if she were drunk.

“Yo… sorry about that,” she said, her tone vague and eyes focussed somewhere over his shoulder. “Didn’t see ya, y’know.”

“Are you alright?” he asked, slipping off his backpack as he glanced her over for any obvious bleeding. “What happened?”

“Damn duck…”

“Duck?”

“Yeah… hey, you got the time on you?” she asked suddenly, her eyes focussing on his face. “I gotta be home before six. I’m supposed to be fixing a roof.”

“Sorry, I don’t wear a watch,” he said apologetically, and she sighed and shrugged.

“S’okay. I better get goin’, anyway. Sorry about running into you,” she said, and then pushed herself to her feet, before almost immediately crumpling back down. Ryoga only just caught her, and she grimaced as he lowered her back to the ground.

“Yo, knight in shining armour dude, don’t,” she said firmly, and even though she was a girl and clearly hurt, Ryoga could only just fight the urge to smack her head against the ground.

“You can’t even stand up! I’m trying to be nice, here!”

“Yeah, and I don’t need it!” she snapped back, pushing his hands away. “I don’t need no help, so just lay off!”

He grit his teeth, chivalrous personality warring with the fact that this was clearly no lady, which made it hard to treat her like one. Compromise was clearly the only solution. “How about this? I help you stand, you lead me to a good place to eat, and we get some food. I’m hungry and you need time to recover.”

“I don’t need to recover, dammit!”

“Well, I need to eat, so shut up.” Even though he was horrified with himself for treating a woman with such disrespect, he left it at that, and bluntly yanked the girl up and over his back. Her legs seemed to automatically snap up over his hips, latching on like some kind of acrobat, so he was luckily saved from having to find somewhere to hold her legs that wouldn’t result in a nosebleed. Uncouth she may have been, but her arms and shape hinted at a better body than her sloppy clothes would suggest.

“Go down that street over there. I know an okinomiyaki chef that cooks like you wouldn’t believe,” she said gruffly, and Ryoga focussed on following her pointing finger rather than the street. They made it three streets before the girl started laughing at his faulty directional sense. “You’re just like this guy I used to know! School called him the Eternal Lost Boy.”

He grunted, not even commenting when she roughly swung his head around to point in the opposite direction than the one he wanted to go.

“Hey, apparently his whole family’s like that. You wouldn’t be related to him, wouldja? What was his name…” She trailed off into unintelligible mumblings for a while before clicking her fingers. “Himitsu! Ryo Himitsu! Wait, no, that’s wrong… Gimme a sec…”

“Ryoga Hibiki?” he suggested irritably. A few people across the country had gotten to know their family. It wasn’t the first time he’d met someone who knew him before he knew them.

“Maybe… why?”

“That’s me,” he grunted, and the girl suddenly twitched, stiffening up to the point that her legs slipped from his hips. She slid off his back, and he turned to look at her in question, raising an eyebrow. “What’s wrong?”

“Ryoga…?” she whispered, staring at him. “You’re Ryoga?”

“Yeah. Who’re you?”

The girl slumped slightly, looking off to the side, before she crossed her hands behind her back with a painfully forced smile. She opened her mouth to answer, before a girl’s furious roar broke through the conversation, “Ranma!”

The girl stiffened again, her eyes flicking off to the side and widening. “Ah – Akane!”

“Honestly! You were supposed to be home an hour ago!” The girl storming up to them was pretty, in her own way. Long dark hair and brown eyes. She would have looked better with short hair, Ryoga thought, but right now she just looked frustrated, and was holding a full kettle for some reason. “I saw Mousse flying back to the Cat Café. You didn’t hit him too hard, did you?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, thanks for asking,” the red-head griped, snatching the kettle. “By the way, Ryoga Hibiki, meet Akane Tendo. Akane, this is an old friend of mine.”

“Friend?” they both repeated, but the girl didn’t bother to answer before hefting the kettle and pouring the steaming water over her head. As Ryoga watched, the girl grew, her chest and arms thickening, her hair and skin darkening to whole new shades, her face thinning and jaw broadening. When she opened her eyes, they were a stormy grey instead of clear blue, and a slightly older, more scarred, but still recognisable Ranma Saotome grinned at him.

“Yeah. We went to middle school together, and now we’re going to Ucchan’s for some okinomiyaki. You coming, Akane?” he asked, before snatching Ryoga’s wrist and yanking him off down the street. “So, Ryoga, what’s been going on with you? Man, have I got stories this time! Turns out the old man don’t even speak Chinese, and he still took us to China! There’s this training ground, Jyusenkyo, and it’s supposed to be all scary and stuff. When I got there, I thought it’d be easy – it was just a bunch of ponds with sticks coming out. But turns out that when you fall in one, you turn into whatever it was. S’why I was a girl before. Sorry ‘bout that, by the way. What’re you doing in Furinkan? Trying to get to the post office?”

Normally, the whole thing would have gotten him scared and little angry, but then Akane caught up and started chewing Ranma’s ear about being too abrupt, leaving Ryoga nothing to do but stare at Ranma’s tight hold on his wrist.

“Na, Ryoga,” Ranma said suddenly, cutting off whatever Akane was saying by turning to look at him again. “I know you’d wanna get home an’ all, but can you wait ’til tomorrow? You can camp out in the Tendo Dojo – where I’m staying at the moment. I’ll take you home first thing in the morning, but just wait until you try Kasumi-san’s cooking. She’s awesome. But first you gotta try Ucchan’s. She’s a martial artist too! Got this huge spatula. Hey, we can spar, too! I got this great new move I wanna show you!”

Ryoga blinked, then flexed his hand, feeling the warm grip on his wrist as he stared at the expectant smile. And he remembered that long night trading travelling tricks, and going to school every day, and how it had felt to get to school and find out he would probably never see Ranma again.

He smiled, nodding once. “You won’t beat me this time, Ranma! I’ve been training hard since you left!”

“Yeah right, like you could find anyone to train with but wild boars!”

“Hey, they’re stronger than you’d think, ya’know!”

“Yeah?”

They kept talking all the way to the okinomiyaki store, and then all the way to an old, run-down Dojo, and then all through dinner and a long, exhausting spar, and then a bath, and the next morning, Ranma grabbed his wrist and dragged him through three cities, all the way home, handing him a phone number and telling him to call next time he wanted to spar.

And Ryoga finally got where he was going.


	3. Nabiki never really had her way with Ranma

The accounting books spread across the table in front of her, Nabiki frowned, biting into the first of six cakes her newest ‘beloved’ had bought her. Things had been going badly enough before Ranma and his father arrived – what with her father getting progressively more pathetic as the years went on. Their dojo enrolments had been falling, the pleas for help and gifts of gratitude practically non-existent. Her second year of high school had been looking bleak, and she was relying on pictures of Akane to keep food on the table.

Ranma’s arrival had been a mixture of good and bad omens. For one, he was a really hot girl, and the boys paid big money for her image. His fights drew crowds too, and crowds made bets. Ranma was quietly famous, so the pleas for help returned, and his fiancees kept food on the table with their offerings for his love. But Ranma was plagued by rivals and attacks, not to mention his father. Their house had never been more damaged, and the food bill went up by two hundred percent. Thank the gods Ranma was inhuman in healing as well as eating, or his hospital bills would have killed them.

But the damages were getting worse, and the bets were fading. People had too much confidence in Ranma – they would never bet against him, and Ranma never lost a duel. The house was falling apart as it was, and between Happosai, Akane and Ranma, it wouldn’t last another year.

She tapped the photographs she’d spread over the right side of the table, considering. Ranko was raking in the cash with the photographs. The price had actually gone up since people had realised it was Ranma, because they figured that, as a fellow guy, Ranma would understand. Funny how they never mentioned it to him, though…

But Ranma… Nabiki had to admit, she was a little hesitant about even having photographs of the male him, let alone trying to sell them. It wasn’t that Ranma wasn’t attractive; hell, he was downright sexy, when he kept his mouth shut, but he was still Ranma. And he was damn powerful. Her only protection from his wrath was that she was a girl, but selling pictures of the male him could very well push him over the edge.

But it was so tempting! That inner stereotype of a martial artist that he could have been if he’d been brought up by anyone but his father came through in photographs, and it would have sold like hotcakes! The one she was most fond of at the moment was a picture she’d snapped of him in the bath after a particularly long fight with Ryoga. His hair was long and wet, out for the first time in months because Kasumi had asked to wash it, and he had been distracted, so when he looked around at the sound of the door opening, the resulting look was rather come-hither.

Kodachi paid a lot of money for that one. And even more for the slightly disturbed picture Nabiki had snapped during one of Ranma’s fights with Mousse. It had Ranma pinned to a tree, a heavy gash across his cheek and his limbs completely bound by Mousse’s various weapons. It catered to alternative tastes, but the customer was a girl that thought seducing a man included paralysis powder and a lot of rope.

She was in the process of packing away her travelling store when a copy of the bathroom shot was snatched from under her hand. She looked up, vaguely surprised to see a friend of a friend from Class 2-A holding up the photo for perusal. “Oh, Nabiki Tendo, what do we have here? Isn’t this that first year? The guy that turns into a girl?”

“That’s right,” she said, plucking the photo away. “Ranma Saotome. You want to look, you have to be buying, sorry.”

“Does buying entail being a fiancee, or just wanting pictures?” asked another girl, walking up with a group of her friends. Nabiki raised her eyebrows, intrigued by their interest. She’d always thought Kodachi was the only girl that would actually buy pictures of Ranma.

“You’re interested?”

“I’ve always thought he was cute,” she confessed. “But he does have a fiancee, and that puts him off limits, doesn’t it?”

“He has three of them!” said another. “I don’t really think he’s off-limits to anyone!”

“Naoko!” hissed a third. “Nabiki-chan’s little sister is one of those fiancees!”

The girl gasped and began apologising, but Nabiki just waved it off, to interested to care about honour. “No, you’re right. Akane is a fiancee, but technically, so am I. He’s just supposed to marry one of us sisters to carry on the dojo. But none of us actually want him.”

“Really?” Satsuki asked, staring. “But he’s so handsome!”

“And strong,” another moaned.

“And athletic!” one cooed. “Have you seen him play sports?”

“And didn’t his dad mess him up really badly? He’s totally damaged goods – he’ll do anything you tell him to, as long as you can pretend to cry about it!” Satsuki sighed, plucking the photo back from Nabiki. “He may be younger than me, but he’s still some A-class goods.”

“And have you girls seen this picture?” cried another girl, snatcing a photo out of Nabiki’s collection. It was an image from an early summer morning, with Ranma chasing Happosai in his boxers and nothing else. “You share a bathroom with this god and you don’t care? Nabiki, are you sane?”

“Oh… that’s a nice body… I like how short those boxers are…”

Nabiki blinked around at them for a moment, then grinned, pulling out the Ranma-guide—also known as her photo album—that she’d put away after selling the pictures to Kodachi. “Ladies,” she announced, holding it out for their perusal. “It is true Ranma is engaged to my little sister, however, as it is entirely on the whim of our fathers, they have no personal interest in one another. Ranma, however, is one prime hunk of man beef, and his image can be yours for the low, low price of one thousand yen a picture!”There was a pause as they drank in an image from when Ranma was doing his homework, his expression panicked and adorable; a sweet picture of early morning in his oversized pyjamas and exhausted expression; the gorgeous shot from when he was sprawled in front of the television; the dominating gaze from an argument with his father; the helpful smile he wore only for Kasumi; picture after picture of him sleeping, beat up, bleeding or chained, but all attractive in one way or another, for one person or another.

The girls exchanged hesitant glances, before Nabiki was suddenly given enough orders to pay for Akane’s new window pane.

She’d thought it was just a once off, but then the word spread throughout the second year, into the first, and then up to the third.

Hmm…

* * *

 

The camera made slow progress, panning up the long, lithe legs to the perfectly rounded hips, around the tiny waist and up to the expansive breast. One hand slowly brushed over the milky white cheek to brush back an errant strand of red hair, and blue eyes flickered nervously.

“Um… I’m not sure about this,” Ranko stammered, watching the blinking red light of the camcorder apprehensively.

“It’s fine,” Nabiki said, waving at him with her spare hand. She would edit her own voice out later, but Ranma’s nervousness made for great footage. Guys loved that, where Ranko was concerned – maybe it helped separate her from Ranma, or maybe it was a virgin thing. Who knew? “Just take it slow, like we talked about.”

“This is really okay, though, right?” he asked, struggling to stay still as she circled him again. “It’s just you and me that’ll know about it?”

“Don’t worry. Akane’ll never know.”

“And our pops?” Thank God the camera hadn’t been on his mouth for that one – would’ve been hard to edit out.

“Not unless you tell them.” She raised the camera back to his face, and he glanced away as he muttered one final concession. She smirked, zooming out to show his full female body. It was a simple request she’d put forward to ‘help pay for his board’: one video of Ranko undressing (with full women’s lingerie, of course). What Ranma didn’t know was that she’d also be accidentally leaving the camera in the bedroom before he changed for bed, tonight. She smirked at the money this would rake in, then motioned to Ranko again. “Like we talked about. Start with the hair – work your way down and up again.”

“I… I don’t want to do this,” he said suddenly, folding his arms around himself. “Seriously, it doesn’t feel right.”

“Okay, that’s fine,” she said, lowering the camera. “I just thought this would make enough money to pay for the dojo.”

“What? What about it?” he asked quickly, and she made a show of shrugging her free shoulder.

“Well, when he came into fix it last week, the carpenter said that even one more hole in any part of it will mean it breaking down completely,” she said regretfully. “He said that unless we work it through a full overhaul within the next month, the whole thing could collapse. I just didn’t want that to happen… Daddy will be upset, but, hey, when you’re right, you’re right.”

Ranko stared at her for a moment, morals visibly raging across his expression. Personal dignity, modesty, and a desire to not give Nabiki anything warred with his sense of honour surrounding the Tendo family and dojo as a whole.

Nabiki was not at all shocked over which one won out. It was the start of a long and beautiful cash flow.

* * *

 

The hotel room was dark as Akane peered around the door. Ryoga set a hand on her shoulder for balance to look over her head, but there was nothing to be seen. The curtains were drawn and all the lights turned off. The single shaft of light spilling around them from the open door only stretched to the foot of the bed, where a familiar set of Chinese slippers had apparently fallen from the sky.

“Ranma?” Akane whispered. “Are you in here?”

“Nabiki-san gave us the key,” Ryoga added, but there was no answer to either of them, so they exchanged glances and stepped inside, closing the door behind them. Akane turned on the bathroom light, so it would spill into the bedroom to give them light enough to see, but not blind Ranma if he was asleep, and Ryoga led the way over the bed.

“Ranma?” Akane called again, crouching down to the sprawled lump under the covers. “Ranma, it’s Akane.”

A small grunt answered her, and Ryoga scowled. “Wake up!” he snapped, and a louder grumble replied. “Dammit, Ranma, we came all the way over here to see you! Wake up!”

“Lemme alone, Nabiki,” the lump slurred.

“Ranma, it’s Akane and Ryoga-kun!” she insisted, but the lump just rolled over, so Ryoga cracked his knuckles.

“Sorry about this, Akane-san, but it’ll work,” he said, and then let out a roar before slamming his fist into the space Ranma’s head had occupied only a second before. Their friend was now clinging to the curtains, halfway up the opposite wall, staring at them wildly.

“What the hell was that for?” he demanded, and Ryoga smirked.

“Got you up, didn’t it?”

“Ryoga?” he asked, blinking as the sight in front of him finally registered. “Akane? What’re you two doing here?”

“Honestly! We came to see you!” she snapped, standing up. “You haven’t been to Nerima in months!”

“Sorry about that,” he said, slowly lowering himself back to the ground. “Nabiki’s got a pretty full schedule, y’know.”

“Yeah, we’ve seen you around a lot,” said Ryoga, folding his arms. “Seems like every Police department in the country’s hiring you out these days.”

“And Daisuke-kun showed me the new edition of Playboy – you were on the cover!” Akane said, forcing her tone to stay even. “Ranko’s getting pretty famous, isn’t she?”

Ranma hesitated, then scoffed, running a hand back through his hair. “You got a problem with it, talk to Nabiki. I don’t know what goes where, I just turn and smile for the camera.”

“What kind of an attitude is that?” she snapped. “It’s your face being plastered all over Japan, you should care!”

“I don’t, and neither do you! S’got nothing to do with you!”

“Do you have any idea how much hell I go through because of you? Everyone thinks I’m some kind of pervert, letting my fiance run wild, half-naked and/or female all over the country!”

“Then you should just tell them the truth! You ain’t got nothing to do with me anymore, so just butt out!” he shouted, but Ryoga put a stalling hand on Akane’s shoulder before she could make her retort.

It had been almost a year since they’d seen Ranma, and even in the dim light it was clear he’d changed. After Nabiki had officially gotten her claws into him, he’d been hired out to towns and police stations to battle everything from bank robbers to poltergeists, and it was clear he’d benefitted from the constant battles in strength, but there was fine white scars all over his bare arms that Ryoga knew on anyone else would have probably been deep wounds. His hair was longer now that it wasn’t bound by the dragon’s whisker, but his signature pigtail had expanded in width more than length due to all the conditioning Nabiki had put it through. He looked healthy, but the Ranma from a year ago wouldn’t have woken up from a simple fist to the head, let alone one just aimed for it. He would have rolled over into a deeper sleep.

Ranma was tired, jumpy, and on the brink of losing his tenuous grip on reality. And it was tenuous. Ryoga had always thought there was something wrong with Ranma – sure he was lucky, egotistical and just downright evil, but that eternal optimism and confidence was just sick. And from the occasional letters he sent to the Tendo Dojo, it was clear he still thought he was Nabiki’s slave for the sake of the Dojo. That had been how she’d gotten him into this situation in the first place – by saying she was trying to pay for all the damage he’d caused. But the Dojo, and house, and people living in it, had never been better, richer or more successful. Ranma didn’t need to be still doing all this – it was just for profit, now, but Ranma was positive he had a moral obligation to continue.

“Na, Ranma,” he began, stepped forward. “Nabiki-san tells us you have the day off today. Got any plans?”

“Sl—” He cut himself off, shaking his head with a bright smile. “Not really. You guys came a fair way – you want to hit the town?”

They exchanged glances again, silently discussing what would be more beneficial for Ranma. Sleep, or time off with his friends to relax. Akane looked up in time to see Ranma frowning at them, and so smiled as brightly as she could.

“That’s a great idea, Ranma! We passed this nice café on the way here – maybe we could get lunch!”

“Yeah, sure…”

“But first, I think a bath’s in order,” Ryoga joked, jumping over the bed to push him by the shoulders. Ranma didn’t need one, really—the Jyusenkyo curse had instilled a habit of thrice-daily baths in almost all its victims out of necessity—but it would give Ryoga a chance to see all the scars and how he was moving without photoshop to take away the pain. That was what he and Akane were here for, really. After the Playboy shoot Nodoka had begged them to find a good reason for Ranma to come home.

He nodded at Akane, who smiled broadly. While Ryoga was doing that, she was supposed to check Ranma’s suitcase and hotel room to make sure Nabiki hadn’t given him anything to keep that eternal optimism up. It wasn’t likely—Ranma was insane and probably always had been; he didn’t need drugs to keep him that way—but it would be the perfect excuse to bring him home.

“I’ll bring you a change of clothes,” she said brightly, just as Ryoga pushed Ranma into the bathroom.

Ryoga settled on the edge of the empty bath when Ranma said he only took showers these days, and pointedly began ensuring the bands on his legs were still properly tied so Ranma could get undressed. The scalding heat of the water that splashed near his feet made him look up though, and Ranma smiled.

“I’m used to it.”

“Yeah,” he said blankly, and did a quick once-over as Ranma stepped under the water. He was moving fine, but with Ranma that didn’t actually mean anything. The white scars from his arms got worse on his chest and back, though, and the dark bands Ryoga had thought were a trick of the light around Ranma’s wrists turned out to be heavy bruising. On a martial artist of Ranma’s calibre, that had to mean it had either been done repeatedly, or just hard enough that anyone else’s hands would have popped off.

“So what’ve you been doing lately?” he asked, turning his eyes to the rest of the bathroom. “Aside from posing for dirty magazines and showing off for anyone that’ll slobber over you, I mean?”

“Ah, nothing that ain’t been done in Nerima,” he said vaguely. “There was this lecherous demon up North. Real freaky pervert, this thing was. Hung around a dance-bar and, get this, would pretend to be a dancer so it could watch the guys drink. That was what it liked. Watching guys get drunk.”

Ryoga blinked, glancing at him in disbelief. “Really?”

“Yeah. Course, it was a bit of a problem, cause no way am I going in to be a dancer in one of those joints, but I couldn’t really be a drunk.”

“You hold your liquor about as a well as a three year old.”

Ranma glared at that but didn’t comment. They both knew it. “But that’s what ended up happening. So the demon took to followin’ me around for a few days, thinking I was gonna get drunk again. When I told it to get lost, it tried forcing the stuff down my throat. Rum is dis- _gus_ -ting!”

Ryoga snickered and got up to check out a first aid kit he’d just noticed in the corner.

“But I pulled a little Drunk-Fu on his butt and won the day. As can only be expected. Where’ve you been wandering lately, P-chan?” he asked, glancing back over his shoulder.

“I was trying to get to Osaka, because I heard that my parents were trying to get to Hokkaido,” he said, holding up a bottle of small white pills he’d found to read the label. “But I just ended up in Tokyo again, then Furinkan High. Then Akane-san said she was going to come see you and I thought I’d tag along.”

“Oh, yeah?” he said, a slow grin spreading over his face. “And you just came cause you wanted to see little old me, didja?”

“Huh?”

“Heh heh… I saw that look before. Does Akane know her boyfriend’s a pig, yet?”

“Shut up!” he snapped, spinning around even as a blush grew over his cheeks. “She and I – she doesn’t – just shut up!”

“You just came up here cause you were worried I was gonna try something!” Ranma said, turning back to his shower. “So how long’s it been since you and the uncute tomboy hooked up outside of piggy bliss?”

“We’re not together!” he cried, waving his arms, before he suddenly stopped and blinked. “And don’t you care?”

“She ain’t my fiancee no more,” he said gruffly. “She ain’t got nothing to do with me.”

He frowned, letting his arms fall to his sides again. Technically, Nabiki was Ranma’s ‘legitimate’ fiancee, but everyone knew that would only last until Nabiki had gotten all the profit she could out of him. Even Ranma had said that before.

“She ain’t gotta wait around,” he muttered, and Ryoga couldn’t help but stare. “You oughta just tell her, Ryoga. Tell her about P-chan and tell her you love her. Inherit the dojo and grow your hair out and have a bunch of little baby P-chans. S’what’s right. S’fate.”

“Ranma…?”

* * *

 

Nodoka was standing by the gate when they got back to the Tendo Dojo. She looked from one to the other, searching their blank expressions for a sign Ranma could come back home.

“Well?” she asked. “How is he? Is he coming back? What’s happening?”

“He’s…” Akane trailed off, looking up at Ryoga, who frowned and looked up at the house. Ranma wanted him to inherit this. Marry Akane and inherit the Dojo and be happy ever after. Or at least, that was what he’d said.

“Ryoga-kun, what about Ranma?” Nodoka demanded, hurrying over to stand directly in front of him. “What’s happening?”

“Ranma is…” He thought back over broad grin Ranma had worn through most of lunch. Thought about the smile plastered over magazine boards all over the country. Thought about the demons and criminals and ghosts he now fought every day. Thought about how Genma had raised him. Thought about Jyusenkyo. Thought about Ranma’s optimistic ego. Thought about the fiancees and Nerima and everything else.

They’d spent six hours with him, and saw his scars, reactions and mood. They knew Ranma better than anyone. They knew when he needed help.

“Well? Ryoga-kun, Akane-chan! Tell me, how is he?”

They exchanged glances again, before Ryoga turned back to her with a bright smile. “He’s as good as he ever was, Aunt Saotome!”


	4. Ranma never grew up with a normal, stable life

“Hurry up! You’re going to be late!”

“I know, I know!”

“You did your homework, didn’t you?”

“You just said I’m gonna be late! I don’t have time to talk!”

“Button your collar, you look like a gangster!”

“I like it like this – the high neck makes me look like a dork!”

“Alright, but at least let me plait your hair.”

“The ponytail’s fine, Mum.”

“No, I’ll do it while you’re eating breakfast.”

“Mum, I’m late!”

“You’ve got time for toa–”

“Ryoga’s waiting! Later, Mum. I’m leaving!”

Nodoka grimaced as he ducked out of her grasp and started toward the door, but she just set her hand on her hip and shouted after him, “Did you remember to get your gi off the dryer?”

“Uh-to!” He changed directions on his heel, scrambling for the laundry instead, but reappeared only a second later, now clutching a bundle of white cloth behind his school bag. “’Sank’yu! I’m leaving!”

Her only response was a sigh, and Ranma grinned as he spun out the door, slamming it closed behind him. His father was going through a kata in the front yard, but Ranma made a point not to look at him. Genma was still angry at him for skipping his marriage-meeting with Akane in favour of sparring with Ryoga, and Ranma didn’t want to get into another fight.

It only took him a few minutes to run to Ryoga’s house, but even so, it was clear his friend had been waiting a while. He scowled as Ranma sprinted the last few metres.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” he demanded. “I’ve been waiting here forever!”

“Sorry, sorry… chill out, okay?” Ranma grinned as he stopped in front of him, stuffing his gi into his bag. “I slept in a little late.”

“More like you spent a couple of hours in front of the mirror again,” snapped Ryoga. “Man, I swear, you’re such a freakin’ girl, you know that?”

Ranma just laughed, swinging his arm around Ryoga’s shoulder and dragging him off down the street. “It takes effort to look this good, you know.”

“Hmph. I don’t see why you bother. It’s not like you have anyone to impress,” he muttered, but then blushed a bright red when Ranma leered at him.

“Oooh, someone’s touchy. Dreaming about a certain tomboy again, were we?”

“Oh, shut up! And get your arm offa me!”

“Aw, don’t be like that, Ryoga!” he cooed, but just gave his friend one last squeeze before letting him go. “Seriously, though, if you want to catch Akane’s attention, you gotta stop dreaming about her and actually _do_ something! She’s not gonna just fall into your lap, yanno!”

“Well excuse me for not being her fiancé!”

Ranma rolled his eyes, waving the fact off with one hand. “Please. That’s just something our dads came up with. I bet if you told her how you felt, she’d –”

“Shh!” he hissed loudly, slapping his hand over Ranma’s mouth. The other boy yelped as he was dragged over to the side of the street, but didn’t say anything when Ryoga let him go in order to peer down the road. “There she is… the blue dandelion in my dried up flowerbed…”

Ranma grimaced, but leaned out to look past him and see. Sure enough, Akane Tendo was walking down the street with her sister, completely oblivious to any friends that may have been walking behind her. He sighed. They spent almost every afternoon together, but still, Ryoga could barely look Akane in the eye without blushing. It was kinda pathetic, really.

Ryoga echoed his sigh with a far more forlorn one, and Ranma glanced at him for a second before starting off down the road again. Not that he would tell Ryoga so, but he didn’t think they had much of a future together, even if Ryoga did ever manage to tell Akane how he felt. Ryoga was a sweet guy – for all his insults and grand statements, he was really emotionally fragile. Heaven knew he’d had his heart stolen and broken more times than Ranma could remember, just in the three years they’d known each other. And Akane, although a great girl, had a quick temper and a quicker mouth. She liked a lot of boys’ stuff, and had grown up defending her interests as well as her femininity, so she was always on the defensive, too. Especially when romance was involved. Ranma knew that as soon as Akane was put in a romantic situation with Ryoga, he would say something that she’d take the wrong way, and so she would shoot off her mouth, and he’d take her seriously. He’d probably run off, depressed, and Akane would stay angry, and it would be up to Ranma to patch things up between them.

Yeah… he wasn’t doing that.

He folded his arms behind his head as Ryoga caught up to him, offering a smirk that Ryoga tried and failed to return. From his own experiences with the girls, Ranma knew that he and Akane had a lot in common when it came to relationships. Only Ranma wasn’t so sensitive. His ex-girlfriend Kodachi had once complained that nothing ever stuck to him – he just didn’t take problems that seriously. After all, he knew they’d all work out in the end, somehow.

In another world, he mused, where he hadn’t grown up with Akane, he might’ve taken this engagement thing seriously. Then he might’ve had some sympathy for Ryoga. He figured that in that world, he probably wouldn’t have been able to hold a full conversation without screwing things up with Akane. Hell, maybe he’d even be as defensive as her! Maybe he’d be the one getting all upset over cracks about his looks or skill or gender.

He chuckled, but when Ryoga asked him what he was laughing at, he just grinned and slapped his friend over the back of the head. “C’mon! Let’s catch up to the girls. Maybe Akane had a kinky dream that made her fall in love with you, last night!”

“Ranma!” he yelled, and set off after his friend, who was already sprinting down the road.

That was one weird world he just couldn’t imagine living in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this was supposed to be the fifth chapter. The lost one was supposed to be something about the circus, but I could never write it. So there were only four things. Ah well. Almost thirty years too late anyway...

**Author's Note:**

> The 48 are a collection of unfinished and pointless fics saved to my hard drive, posted on Ao3 for people's interest or if they wish to adopt them. This particular fic is both, because while I know what the other 'things' are, I never wrote them, for some reason. It hasn't been touched since July 2008, probably even longer since anything but minor edits were done. I hope you enjoy!


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